Standing in the Shadows
by emMelye
Summary: Meg Giry's POV during the time when the movie takes place. Based on the 2004 ALW movie. Rated T just to be safe.


Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Phantom of the Opera characters. I wish I did, but I don't.

Summary: A story about how Meg Giry felt with her best friend in the spotlight instead of her. Based on the ALW 2004 movie.

_**Standing in the Shadows**_

**Chapter 1: New Managers **

I stood in my small dorm that I shared with all of the other chorus girls. Everyone had gone down except Christine and me. She was ready, but it was me that was still finishing up. I was just lucky to have such a great friend like her to wait for me. I ran past her, grabbing the hair tie she held out for me, and ran to the dorm mirror. It was, oddly enough, right next to the front windows of the opera house. I stretched my hair tie around my hand and lifted my hair up, pulling it into a nice, smooth ponytail. Double checking to make sure it was perfect, I turned to run down the stairs to rehearsal. Christine was already at the dorm's door, gesturing me to hurry up. I had just gotten to the stairs when we heard a loud whinny from a horse outside. I turned to Christine, who just shrugged. Shrugging back at her, I walked over to the window to see what was going on. Christine followed shortly. I saw what looked like an ordinary setting for the street outside the opera house, except one thing. There was a peculiar horse and carriage parked right outside the building. We looked to each other again, raising eyebrows, and turned to look back at the mysterious carriage.

After a few moments, three older men came crawling out of the buggy. Behind them, a young man around our age pulled up on a tall gray horse, stopping to say something to the other men then riding towards the opera house stables.

"Look!" Christine exclaimed, "It's Monsieur Lefevre! The opera house manager!" She pointed to man who was, no doubt, our kind but inexperienced manager.

"But who are the other two men?" I asked, "And that younger man, he looked around our age." I looked to my best friend. "Do you recognize any of them?"

Christine stared at the younger man for quite some time. "He looks terribly familiar," she said, "I know I've seen him somewhere, I just can't remember where." She looked back at me. "Do you know him?"

I laughed. "Me? Actually know a boy our age?" I said jokingly, "Surely you are joking! Why, with a mother like mine, no boy will ever come within a mile of me!"

Christine laughed. She knew too how my mother could be. "I guess you're right," she said, "But since your mother is practically my mother, how would I know him?"

I smiled. "Yes, I forgot about that," I replied, "Perhaps you knew him in America? He doesn't look like he's from anywhere around here."

Christine stopped smiling. I cringed, knowing that I must have hit a sensitive subject. "I'm sorry, Christine," I said quickly, "I know how much you miss your father. I shouldn't have brought it up."

Christine shook her head. "No, it's not that," she said, "It's just…well, I did know one boy living in America. His name was Raoul. I haven't the faintest idea of where he is now, though. He's probably still there."

"Oh," I replied sadly. I tried to think of a way to brighten the mood. "Well, perhaps these are the men who will take over for Lefevre!" I said jokingly, "You've heard the rumors circling the opera house. Besides, they're much better looking!"

That cheered her up a bit. She even smiled a little. "I guess you're right," she said. She seemed to then drift off into a dreamlike state, staring out the window. She was so hypnotizing, just sitting there, that I fell into the same status as she did.

We sat there for a few minutes, just staring, as if we were watching our lives flash before us outside the window. Luckily, Christine finally snapped out of it.

"Oh no!" she shouted, "The rehearsal! Your mother is going to kill us!"

This drew me out of my own little world and back into ours. "You're right!" I shouted, standing up quickly. The sudden movement after sitting still made me dizzy. I stood up, holding my head. "Whoa."

Christine was already at the door. "Come on!" she urged me impatiently, "We really have to go! I think we're later than we were yesterday, and that was pretty bad!"

"Coming!" I said, finally regaining my sight. I ran after her, trying to catch up to her longer legs.

Christine and I quickly raced down the steps to our before-rehearsal stretching with the class. As usual, we were late, which had been brought up to me numerous times by my mother. We could hear Carlotta's shrill voice filling the opera house, sending chills through my spine. As we stepped down onto the ground, we hurriedly rubbed our pointe shoes in rosin to prevent slipping. So many times had I fallen from not applying rosin to my shoes, almost always grabbing Christine and bringing her down with me. Of course, after the initial shock of landing on the cold hard floor, our spills always ended in fits of laughter and sometimes even a smile from my mother, which was a very unusual sight.

We finally reached the barre and grabbed it with our right arms, extending our left upward as everyone else in the class was. Luckily for us, mother seemed to have not been paying attention to our late arrival. I looked back at Christine and smiled. The look on her face read _We made it this time! _and I'm sure mine was the same. I sighed, knowing that we were off the hook.

Unfortunately, however, Mother heard my sigh. She briskly turned on her heel and walked up to us. Her eyes widened slightly, a look that signaled to us that we were in deep waters.

"Well," she said, slowly pacing around us, "I'm glad you two finally decided to show." She looked at us, first Christine, then me, but even longer. In some ways I was lucky that my mother viewed Christine as another daughter and not just like any other dancer in the opera house. She stared us both down, so much that we had to look down just to escape her gaze.

"Emily," she said, looking quickly to one of the other dancers at the barre. Emily, one of our younger but much more talented dancers, being only fifteen, looked up. A terrified look covered her face. "Could you please tell Miss Daae and Miss Giry what they have missed. I will deal with their punishments later."

Emily swallowed hard, but sighed that she was not in trouble. She walked over to the side of the practice area in which only Christine and I were at the moment. For some reason, my mother seems to strike fear in all those she speaks to. I have a feeling it's her mysterious ways and her seriousness that throw people off, but I guess Christine and I were used to it by then. I mean, I'd known my mother my entire life and Christine had looked to her as a mother since she was orphaned at seven.

I stood behind Christine, who was behind Emily. She was just about to go over what we had missed when the rehearsal was interrupted. The three older men we had seen outside earlier plowed through the practicing singers, practically knocking them all down. Emily had stopped, not showing us any more. The other girls were finishing their stretching while my mother worked on stretching herself out just in case she was needed. She was bent over her leg at the moment, which was gracefully lifted upon a barre in the back. She ignored the chaos that ensued on stage.

"Monsieur Reyer, Madame Giry," Lefevre shouted over everyone, "May I have your attention for a moment, please."

My mother finally looked up, but her leg stayed upon the barre. She listened intently on what our manager had to say even though she didn't really want to. I knew how much she truly hated our manager. She says so almost every night.

"Ugh!" she'll groan, "That man is not fit to run an opera house!" She'll run about her little room, tidying it as she paced. "He can't even pick a good cast!" she says, referring to Piangi and Carlotta.

I smiled seeing the look on my mother's face. As Lefevre turned away and no one was looking, she rolled her eyes. I giggled, but then she glared at me, making me stop.

Lefevre went on. "All of you have probably heard the rumors of my imminent retirement. I can tell you now that these are all true. I have sold the opera house to these men." He pointed to two older looking men emerging from the cast. "Let me introduce Monsieur Firmin," he said, pointing to the taller man with the hideous large mustache, "And Monsieur Andre," he continued, pointing to the shorter stocky balding man. "You may have heard of their recent fortune accumulated in the junk business," he added, slightly rolling his eyes.

"Scrap metal," Andre corrected.

The cast started whispering to each other. It all sounded like one big hum, not really saying anything. I heard some of the other chorus girls talking.

"I bet their rich!" Brigitte, one of the slightly older chorus girls whispered to Renee, another chorus girl. I was furious with them. They are so incompetent! Their ignorance has left them not realizing the fact that we were just sold to men who knew even less about the performing arts than our last manager. And he was pretty awful!

"And let us introduce," Andre continued, "The Vicomte de Chagny." He turned towards right stage. A young man strode toward us. But not just any young man. No, it was the one we had seen outside our window earlier. He was even more gorgeous than from our window!

Christine ran up behind me excitedly. I could tell her adrenaline was rushing and she was drenched in sweat. She had obviously gotten over here as fast as she could.

"Meg!" she shout-whispered to me, "It's him! It's Raoul! The one I told you about! He used to call me Little Lotte."

I smiled at her. "Christine, he's so handsome!" I said with a small pang of jealousy. I mean, if they had known each other back then, surely he would prefer Christine over me, wouldn't he?

The men all walked right past us, led by Raoul. He didn't even glance at us. This got Christine's self esteem at an all time low.

"He wouldn't recognize me," she said with a slight frown on her face.

I did what any good friend would do. I tried to cheer her up. "He probably just didn't see you," I said. Which was true, he didn't. She half smiled at me. I shot back an enormous smile to help her feel better. She must have, since her half smile grew to a full one.

We were suddenly gestured on stage by my mother. We quickly began our dance for Hannibal, which involved a lot of hopping. I was just glad that I didn't eat much before I had come, otherwise I would've gotten sick. I heard my mother talking to our new managers about me, then about Christine, but I ignored them. I was too busy concentrating on the dance.

After a whole bunch of leaps, turns, and hops we were finally finished. It all ended with a shrill screech from Carlotta, who began complaining even more after we were finished. I didn't pay attention since I was used to her outbursts. They were always about the same thing. I decided to take the time to talk to Christine.

"Hello Christine!" I said upon approaching her, "You looked really great during the practice."

She smiled

She half smiled at me. I smiled back, though it was difficult with Carlotta shrieking onstage. While we had been talking, she had been offered another part in some pathetic groveling act they had put on. If I managed the opera house and someone acted like Carlotta, I'd just let her go! In fact, I'd probably kick her out!

All of a sudden, I saw a shadow fly over me. I looked up, expecting to see Buquet the stagehand adjusting something. However, there was no one. I just shrugged off the feeling and went back to blowing my ear drums.

Suddenly, I saw a curtain fall. Well, it may have been a curtain, but I'm not entirely sure. I was so caught up in the moment; I didn't pay any attention to what it was. All I saw was something big fall on top of squeaky Carlotta. She screamed which, oddly enough, sounded exactly like her singing. This did not shock me at all.

"HELP!" she screamed from under her trap, "HELP ME!" I looked up at the same time as my mother. No one else looked up, they were to busy either helping Carlotta or laughing at her.

We both saw him at the same time. It was him. Erik. The Phantom. I exchanged glances with my mother before turning back to Christine.

"He's here," I whispered to her, "The Phantom of the Opera."

Her face grew pale. Having lived in the opera house my entire life, I know the most stories about the Phantom, having been told by my mother. I had passed them on to Christine (possibly making a few…revisions, I might add, for excitement), whose fear of the Phantom was worse than anyone else's. She had never even seen the Phantom though, which was something I had. He visits me and mother regularly in mother's room.

She turned to me as Carlotta went on complaining again. "Are you sure it was him? It wasn't Buquet?"

I nodded. "Positive. It was the Phantom," I answered with a smile, "Unless Monsieur Buquet suddenly lost a lot of weight and grew younger. Then it may be him."

Christine laughed. "Oh Meg, I can always count on you to cheer me up," she said affectionately.

I smiled. I know that if I traveled the world and interviewed everyone, I would not find a better friend for me than her.

We quickly had to step back as Carlotta stormed past us, followed by the managers. When Carlotta storms, you don't get in her way. Ever. Unless you would enjoy dying a slow and painful death.

It was chaos back on the stage. Everyone was worried about what had happened. Even though I had missed it, seeing what my mother was carrying I knew that the Phantom had left a note as he usually does. I may be wrong, but I'm guessing it was probably stating the guidelines as to how his opera house was to be run. I remember, that's what had happened when Lefevre became our manager ten years ago.

Christine and I walked back onto the stage to stretch. Just in case we still had rehearsals. The managers had come back, storming on about something about refunding a full house. I wasn't fully paying attention. I only heard my mother's statement out of all of the conversations going on.

"Christine Daae could sing it," she said, pointing to Christine. Christine looked up at the sound of her name.

"What, a chorus girl? Don't be silly," Firmin responded as if this was all one big joke. I knew it wasn't, for I had heard Christine sing on many occasions. She was very good. She told me that she'd been tutored by someone, but she had no idea who. I knew, however, that it was the Phantom. But mother had sworn me to secrecy about that, so I acted as though I didn't know.

"She has been taking lessons from a great man," Madame Giry replied.

"Who?" Firmin asked.

Christine blushed and shrugged. "I don't know his name Monsieur," she said. I tried not to laugh. I always found it quite funny when she tried using French with her thick American accent. Mother hit my leg with her cane, which made me stop instantly.

I looked around the stage a bit. I could never focus on one thing for a long time. I have concentration difficulties, which is why most people find it a surprise that I'm a dancer, a profession that requires great concentration. I heard something about an aria and about Christine being pretty, but that was about it. But I looked back when I heard the musicians begin playing.

"Think of me,

Think of me fondly,

When we've said goodbye."

I couldn't hear the words after that. My mind was blurred. It was as if Christine had me entranced. Perhaps this was the Opera Ghost's intention when he began teaching her. I was so hypnotized by her voice that I didn't notice anything until it abruptly stopped. I came back to the real world, back to the opera house, and glanced at our new managers for their reactions. They were stunned. They couldn't even mutter a single word, that's how impressed they were. In fact, it wasn't until then that I noticed that everyone had gone silent.

Finally, Monsieur Andre piped up. "Well, Miss Daae," he said to her slowly, "That was remarkable. You're hired!"

Christine looked at me and smiled. It was the happiest I'd seen her in years, perhaps ever. I smiled back at her excitedly, hoping that my facial expressions conveyed a look of congratulations. But deep inside, I wasn't really fully happy for her. I felt guilty for even feeling that, but I couldn't help it. I was about to walk over to Christine to congratulate her myself when I suddenly couldn't. Apparently everyone else in the opera house had that same exact idea at the same exact time. I couldn't get to my best friend to congratulate her, which made me angry. None of these people knew her as well as I do, so why should they get to talk to her first! I fumed as I paced around a bit, hoping that the steam would wear off. It finally did once the crowds around Christine died down. I rushed over to her.

"Christine! You-" I started, but however I was cut off by Monsieur Firmin, who grabbed my friend and pulled her away from me. I felt even more furious, but I didn't want to ruin anything for me or my mother on our new managers' first day.

"Well Miss Daae," he said to her excitedly, "We'd better get you outfitted for your costumes! Tomorrow night is the gala!"

I huffed and walked away. It then occurred to me that this may be the way it will be for a long time. This wasn't going to be just a one-time thing for Christine. No, the managers had big plans for her. And this meant that I may never get free time alone with her ever again.


End file.
